


At the Crossroads

by Venn364



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Angst, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, F/F, Horde soldiers come pre-installed with PTSD and attachment issues, It's Catradora angst hours, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, So much angst, That's Just the Way It Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venn364/pseuds/Venn364
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Thaymor, Catra chooses differently.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 214





	At the Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Gryffindos for betaing this version and Nny11 who beta'd the original which never ended up seeing the light of day lol  
> You're amazing

The smoke surrounding the battlefield obscured most of Catra's vision, her eyes watering in irritation as the smog billowed around her.

It had to be the smoke. It was the only real explanation for the liquid that welled up in her eyes as the light from the gigantic Princess in the crater faded away to reveal the soldier that resided at her core.

Adora.

Smaller and more frightened than Catra had ever seen her, collapsing to her knees and shivering in the aftermath of the magic.

Adora's eyes roamed almost unseeing over the carnage that surrounded them, taking in the mangled wrecks of Horde machines as screams and calls for retreat continued to echo through the pathetic remains of the village they had set out to conquer. Eventually, improbably, those eyes settled on Catra's form silhouetted within the smoke.

There was no way Adora could see her, no way she could know for sure that the hazy outline no doubt presented was Catra herself.

Somehow, it was clear she knew anyway.

The traitor's shoulders slumped as Catra stepped further back into the smoke, gaze dropping in hopeless acceptance and telling Catra all she needed to know about whether she'd been recognised through all the interference. Catra didn't need to see Adora clearly to know she would be trembling, the slope of her back and the way her hands curled around her torso told Catra more than she wanted.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't _fair!_

No wonder Adora had been afraid to go home. Even if she said it was to defend others, dressed it up in pretty words and noble sentiments until Adora had convinced even _herself_ that the decision to abandon the Horde had nobler roots...

Everyone knew what happened to the cadets and soldiers who showed even the mildest signs of magical corruption.

Shadow Weaver would take Adora away and- Shadow Weaver would- she would- she _wouldn't_ , would she? Not to Adora, not _Adora_. Never!

Except she might, if- if-

Then Catra would lose Adora anyway, with no chance of ever getting her back.

Not even being the favourite protected Adora from everything and, much as Catra hated the admission, it had almost certainly made some things worse. Shadow Weaver expected perfection, perfection that Adora mostly delivered. _Mostly_. Catra had spent enough nights alone in their bunk to know how hard Adora worked to maintain that perfection, to know there were likely consequences to _imperfection_ that she hadn't seen.

Somehow, that made Adora's apparent indifference to Catra's own plights feel worse.

If Catra brought Adora home what would happen? Would things be better, or worse? If Adora was magic, if Adora was gone... Would Catra be the new favourite? If Adora was no longer there to steal all the affection and affirmations away would Shadow Weaver finally love Catra then? Praise her and reward her for her accomplishments, instead of merely acknowledging her successes and harshly punishing her failures real or perceived?

Catra hated that thought. That _weakness_.

She watched as Adora crumbled at the epicentre of destruction, her own personal crater of self-condemnations and regret. Watched as Adora's head came up to glance at where her weaker eyes could no longer make out Catra through the smoke, head ducking down again when she didn't find what she was looking for.

Adora's eyes had held a look Catra remembered from their childhood, far away and glassy. The same look a very young Adora used to get when she had been in need of comfort but without the skills or confidence to ask. Adora never had learned to ask, the glassy look had gone the way of their first training staves, discarded with other outgrown things or else hidden away so that no-one might see.

It wasn't _fair_.

Catra felt the sharp, shallow pricks in her palms as her fists clenched and tried to focus on what she was supposed to do.

She needed to leave.

Retreat back to the Fright Zone.

Report Adora's defection to Shadow Weaver.

Assume leadership of their Squad before Lonnie or Rogelio got any funny ideas.

Then, one day, Catra would take her rightful place at the head of that horrible place, with or without her best friend at her side.

Alone.

By herself.

Without Adora.

Alone.

Catra didn't even remember moving.

One moment she had been steeling herself to finally, _finally_ , turn her back on the only person she'd ever truly loved. The next moment found her on her knees, an arm's length from her best friend (from _Adora_ and everything she meant to Catra, the good and the bad) as Catra reached out her hand to grip a trembling shoulder.

Adora's eyes snapped up to Catra's own conflicted face.

The whole world was getting blurry, that stupid, _stupid_ smoke was in Catra's eyes again and it _hurt_.

It hurt that Adora had left, hurt that Adora had refused to come home, refused to trust Catra with the truth about why she needed to leave. It hurt that Catra had zapped Adora in a fit of panic and rage, that she'd been going to leave Adora here, on the battlefield, to dwell on her mistakes.

It hurt that she'd very nearly left Adora as alone as Adora had left her.

Blue eyes bored into her, shocked, afraid, confused.

That wasn't right. Adora wasn't supposed to be afraid of Catra. Not Adora.

Adora who, as a child, would stand with Catra against cadets three times their size, calling them names and sprinting, laughing when they tried to retaliate. Adora who had the best individual score in their division for the training simulator, who had stolen a skiff, _a skiff_ , on her very first day as Force Captain. Adora who Catra loved. She should never be afraid, not of Catra. _Never_.

Catra did her best to smile, broken as it was. To try and offer up at least some repayment of the comfort Adora had always tried to give her, to reassure Adora that it was going to be okay. That there wasn't any reason to be afraid, at least, not to be afraid of Catra or the things she might still do.

Neither one of them acknowledged the wet tracks that made their way down Catra's fuzzy cheeks, nor the moisture that streamed down Adora's face accompanied by half stifled, gasping sobs.

If they didn't acknowledge it then it wasn't there. It wasn't there, and everything was fine.

It was fine. They were _fine_ except...

Except Adora was staring at Catra as though she wasn't real. As though it were Catra who had disappeared into the night with no certainty of ever returning only to reappear on the opposite side of a battle where they should have stood shoulder to shoulder.

Then, as if Catra's day weren't surreal enough, Adora lurched forward, face crumpling in earnest as she caught Catra around the middle with her full weight and fell to pieces.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

Catra barely kept her balance as Adora flung herself into Catra's space, blubbering apologies into her chest as Adora wrapped those stupid, _stupid_ strong arms of hers around Catra's stomach and hiccuped forcefully with effort of trying to contain her emotions. As if Adora thought she could make their problems disappear through the sheer force of her regret.

"Catra, I'm sorry,"

As if Adora's apologies might fix everything that had gone wrong between them these last few days.

"I'm so, _so sorry_."

Catra hated that she wanted those words to be enough.

Hated that her own apology caught in her throat, unspoken, as Adora's litany of guilt continued.

Hated that it was so hard to be angry, with her arms curled protectively around Adora's trembling form.

Most of all, Catra hated that her own voice wavered and cracked as she interrupted what might have been the world's longest apology, "You're such a dummy," Catra pressed her nose into Adora's hair, taking in her scent and feeling her own self control slipping away as more tears made their way through her fur, "We'll be fine, just- just take me with you next time, ok?"

Catra felt Adora take a deep, shuddering breath beneath her cheek and braced herself for Adora's inevitable excuse or refusal. 

"Ok."

The relief she felt was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Catra tightened her arms around her best friend and swore to herself that next time something happened, she would not let Adora go alone.

It was, perhaps, a perfect moment, wrapped up in each other's arms. Hurting, yes, but safe and alive and _together_ , as the slow creeping realisation stole over Catra that this was it, they were free.

They were free and, if they were careful, Shadow Weaver would never touch either of them ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then Glimmer and Bow yeet themselves into the crater to “save” Adora from the Horde Soldier and things get *awkward*.
> 
> Most likely this will remain a oneshot, a glimpse of things that might have been. If the inspiration strikes to continue this I'll turn it into a series and this will remain a completed work.
> 
> I crave validation like Entrapta craves new tech so if you are interested in more or if this made you feel an emotion please leave a comment to let me know :)


End file.
